


Errands

by Zeef



Series: Magie de Paris [1]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magic, Angst, Canon Era, Comfort, Gen, M/M, Magic-Users, Multi, Patron-Minette - Freeform, Recovery, Well we'll see how it goes, finding happiness again, some darker themes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-11
Updated: 2017-09-20
Packaged: 2018-12-26 15:53:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12062205
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zeef/pseuds/Zeef
Summary: When a Thief wants something, especially the young Thief King of Paris, it's not a good idea to refuse them. Babet is a Healer, and a recovered Necromancer who works with criminals to get by since no one legal will hire him now. When he finds himself offered a job by Montparnasse, he knows better than to turn him down. Slowly Babet comes to terms with his loss and his new life with the Patron-Minette.





	1. Thief's Errand

**Author's Note:**

> This is one part of this au I'm working on! There will be more to come, focusing on other groups in the universe. Hit me up on Tumblr if you want to talk about it! I also post things there before I do here, so if you want to see things sooner follow me here: https://r-we-taire-yet.tumblr.com !
> 
> This chapter is mostly rising action so, sorry it's short!

The pain from the beating itself wasn’t the worst part. No, it was how he could barely move and was on the wet, dirty ground of the alley way. Babet wouldn’t say he didn’t deserve what he’d been given, but he was totally vulnerable to anyone else who wanted to have their way with him. The idea of trying to get up and leave seemed impossible, given the fact that just curling in a ball was painful.

Babet remembered a time before all this, before he gave up. He remembered the hope in his heart when he was accepted into the Healing school and the day he graduated so quickly. That was all gone now, burned away. He had a home and a job and a fiance and a life and for once he was happy and loved and enjoying being alive. When she died in that fire though, his world crumbled around him. He had nowhere to live, because their home was gone, and had lost his job fairly soon after as he stopped going to work so that he could focus more time on bringing her back to him. Babet had begun using his natural healing abilities for darker reasons. Every time he tried a new necromancy spell he felt like he lost a piece of himself in the process, and to an extent he was.

Necromancy was a nasty Magic, especially if you went into it with deep emotions. The dead sucked at your soul until there was nothing left, and you went through life a husk of your former self, or joined them in the afterlife. Healers had both a natural gift for it, and a natural likelihood to lose themselves in it, especially if they lost someone they loved. It wasn’t as easy as simply ceasing the magic either, because the more you did it the more your soul hungers for more. Babet had the odds stacked against him before he even considered doing Necromancy.

He managed to quit before the process of draining him was complete, but it did leave him much less HIM than before. Now he was as pale as a sheet of paper, and nearly as transparent as the spirits he had conjured. His ability to feel was severely lacking as well, given that a fair amount of his soul had left his body at that point. There was no point of no return for Necromancy, everything was irreversible. The dabblings were also obvious to everyone who saw you, just as obvious as any other addiction. It didn’t matter to anyone that he had stopped, he was a Necromancer and always would be.

So, he resorted to using his skills for more criminal things. No more necromancy of course, but the fact that he was talented in healing often became useful, whether they were looking for a Healer for a heist, just in case, or for one of him pain relieving spells, something that could be just as addictive as Necromancy. It didn’t matter to him anymore. Nothing did. He lost his love, he lost his hope, he lost a fair part of his soul, he didn’t care about anything anymore.

And that is what lead him to being beaten terribly and curled up on the ground in an alley that smelled of waste. The heist had gone wrong and he made a poorly chosen comment about that, which was not taken kindly by his employers. He couldn’t heal himself well, no faster than his magic naturally would, which was faster than normal given the fact that he was a Healer, so he was stuck there until he gained the strength to crawl away himself. The only reason he wasn’t dead was actually his magic, which saved him from his fate. Babet wasn’t sure he would have minded dying instead of this. Even when he did manage to get out of there, surely someone would have picked his pockets by then and he would be worse off than he already was.

Just as he had that thought, he heard someone enter the alley and stop just a bit away from him, watching. Part of him wished this person would just kill him and end his suffering, but instead he knelt down beside him at a level Babet could see him at.

“You’re the Necromatic Healer, are you not? Babet, was it?” the man, who was hardly a man, much closer to a boy than anything, said in a bored voice.

Babet looked up at the young man’s face questioningly. He was young for the amount of stuff he’d gone through, only being twenty himself, and this guy only appeared to be a bit younger than him, but he knew this guy from the rumors. It was most certainly that young Thief who was known to not mind killing for what he wanted. If Parnasse knew his name and his magic and such, clearly he was something the guy wanted. Babet wasn’t going to stand in his way of that if it got him out of that alley. Frankly he didn’t want to die enough to do so, he couldn’t force himself to care enough. He nodded a little and closed his eyes, waiting for the other to do whatever he wanted.

Parnasse made a sound that was somewhere between interest and disappointment before whistling to someone else. Babet groaned as someone who was quite strong picked him up not quite gently and began to carry him… somewhere. Parnasse place his hand on Babet’s forehead before they picked up speed and he found himself losing drifting off into a painless slumber.


	2. Dark's Errand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Babet awakens and finds himself in a fancy office being taken care of by a guy you simply would not expect to take care of someone, given his type of magic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have been writing and editing these after classes and homework late at night so forgive me if there are mistakes. College is hard! Especially when you manage to get yourself into Jazz band AND Wind Ensemble and they have practices back to back on Monday nights. There was no way I was doing my German this evening. So! Another chapter gets edited instead. I'm still debating shippy things for the au. If you have suggestions, please say in the comments, or message me on tumblr! https://r-we-taire-yet.tumblr.com/

When Babet awoke, he was feeling somewhat better than he had been expecting. For one thing, he was warm and dry and his wounds had been tended to. His residency was neither warm nor dry, and there was no one there to patch him up or slip him potions to help with pain. He wasn’t exactly expecting the Thief King to care about his latest prize enough to actually take care of him, so the fact that he was cocooned and his pain was lessened was peculiar. 

Babet was always cold, a side affect of having part of your soul join the realm of the dead. This was honestly the warmest he had felt in a long time, as he had given up trying to warm himself up. He had heard rumors of special potions and blankets that could help with perpetual coldness, but never bothered looking into it himself. It seemed like a hoax to him, and he prefered not to waste money on quackery. Still, there must be something magical about this, because he almost felt normal again.

He looked around the room for any sign of Montparnasse and found none, though that didn’t mean the Thief wasn’t there. Thief magic was a kind that was unique and mysterious, as the secrets were only passed down between their own. Still, everyone knew they could make themselves invisible. It was simply that no one knew how. The room itself appeared to be more of an office than a bedroom, and he appeared to be sleeping on a deep green couch instead of a bed. It was clear that whoever the office belonged to, likely Montparnasse himself, took great care in status symbols, as the room was decorated to the nines. Beside him was a small table that was very stylish, and matched the other woodwork in the room. His couch matched the color of the walls, though they had a pattern of light green that the couch did not. Directly in front of him against the wall, between two doors, was a beautiful fireplace with a painting above it.

Babet struggled to restrain his panic at the sight of the roaring fire. Ever since that night, any time he saw flames he was clutched with the same fear as he had when he saw his home and his love burning away, another reason he had grown used to the cold and the dark. He couldn’t help but fearful sound as he worried the flames would leap from their place and burn down the place around him. 

He was not left alone in his terror though, for soon a dark looking fellow breezed into the room through the left door, and the light seemed to dim the closer he got. It was a great relief to no longer focus on the bright fire in front of him. The man didn’t outright speak, and he wore a mask that made it difficult to make out what kind of person he was, Charmed, obviously, but he assisted Babet in sitting up and drinking a potion before laying him back down. Then, the strange man stared at the door to the right of the fireplace. 

“Um… excuse me?” Babet croaked. The potion was already lessening his pain and making his wounds close themselves slightly quicker.

The strange man turned towards him slightly to show he was listening but didn’t say a word otherwise. Babet wondered what kind of secrets such a person could have that would cause them to find it necessary to wear a Charmed mask and scarcely speak. Now, he didn’t know many people like this stranger, who brought Darkness wherever they went, so it could just be a them thing, or the guy could be oddball among his peers.

“Um… where am I? What’s going on?” he asked, hoping the guy would pipe up.

He did not though, not right away. A few minutes passed before the man quietly said, “In the office.”

Babet snickered, and then winced because snickering hurt, and looked around the room again. “And who are you? I’m guessing you know who I am.”

The man took a while to respond again before finally saying, “Claquesous.”

No one gave out their true, full names. Doing so was unheard of. The only reason you would ever give a first name was if your family was wealthy enough to consider giving a middle name. Names had power. That was precisely why Babet was Babet instead of @#%$^ Babet, and why most criminals went by a name that wasn’t even one given at birth. Claquesous and Montparnasse were two obvious examples of that. Babet simply didn’t care enough to hide his name that much.

There was not much more conversation after that, as Babet feared to pry too much. He knew enough about this man through rumors on the street to know he was not someone to trifle with. People who could control Darkness never were. Darkness control was an art you had to be born able to do. You couldn’t practice it without natural born skill. Someone like Claquesous could use their natural skills for all sorts of nefarious things, though right now the man was simply taking care of him and keeping the room dark. How peculiar. It was almost kind.

The door that Claquesous was staring at flew open dramatically as Montparnasse entered the room and inspected the pair. For one so well known for dastardly things, he seemed to keep himself well dressed, though indeed in all black.. He gave a slight nod to the mysterious man, who quickly left, taking the darkness with him. Babet couldn’t help when his eyes slipped over to the once again roaring fire, nor the gulp he couldn’t subdue as he feared for the worst. Meanwhile, the Thief brought a chair over and watched Babet as if waiting for him to speak first. He seemed to notice the glances at the fire, and appeared at least a bit curious. Montparnasse moved his chair so he was sitting in the way, cutting off Babet’s ability to see the fire so clearly, though it was more likely so he would pay attention to him rather than wanting to quell Babet’s fear.

“Where am I?” he finally asked, when he didn’t feel like he was going to die quite as much.

“My office,” Montparnasse replied smoothly, sitting back in his chair. He was tall and thin, like a boogie man in the night, dressed all in black save his undershirt which seemed stark white against the other clothing. His eyes had a dark glint to them too, a color so close to black that it was impossible to imagine they were anything but. Thief magic generally shone black when it had a color at all, better to blend into the shadows that way, and you could always tell a Thief by their dark eyes, just like you could tell Babet had dabbled in Necromancy by his somewhat translucent nature, and that Claquesous was a Darkness wielder by how his edges seemed to blend into the world around him.

He snorted, “No shit, I meant where is the office.” Babet enjoyed that everyone seemed to be snarky there, but it was growing tiring not to get a straight answer.

“My base of operations, and where you will be staying as well, if you choose to accept my job offer,”

Babet knew how dangerous it was to say no to Montparnasse so he didn’t, not immediately. Besides, he could use a solid job. “What kind of job is this?”

“Simple, you heal us when we need it and help ease any pain that we may happen upon. In return, you can live with us hear in our lovely home and keep that blanket helping you stay warm. And, of course, your keep of any thefts you come with us on,” the Thief replied, knitting his fingers together. 

It seemed like a fair trade. He wouldn’t have to live in that ratty old apartment anymore, and he could keep the blanket that made him feel less dead inside, while doing what he had gone to school to do. Sure, they were criminals, but Babet was one too. Necromancy was against the law, as was Healing criminals with no intention of turning them in. It wouldn’t do any more harm to him, joining this crew, than he had inflicted upon himself. He was hesitant to go into a deal with a Thief though, as unless you were also a Thief it would be binding. Double crossing a Thief could be your doom. 

“I accept,” Babet said, ignoring his worry as he reached out to shake the man’s hand. He didn’t know exactly what he was signing up for, but knew it would be at least a bit better than what he had currently.

Montparnasse instead clutched his forearm and stared into his eyes, which were nearly glowing with his dark magic. Babet hissed as he felt his arm burn under the touch of the other, as Montparnasse’s mark seared itself into his flesh. “The pact is sealed. Welcome to the Patron-Minette.”


	3. Killer's Errand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gueulemer got himself shot on a job and needs fixed up. Babet starts to have feelings again. His fiancee is named.

Babet had settled quite nicely into this new life of his. It was better than what he’d had previously, obviously, and he had grown used to the others over his time in the home. It turned out to be an apartment in the rough part of the city, Charmed so thoroughly that it appeared on the inside to be a high society manor house in the countryside. The home was far too spacious and had multiple floors, none of which were physically possible for the apartment without Charms. Babet had never been anywhere as beautiful than the home before in his life, but he got used to the lifestyle fairly quickly.

Something that took a bit more get used to was the new mark on his forearm. A black M was located where Montparnasse palm had been during the agreement, facing him so he was reminded who he worked for now every time he took off his shirt or rolled up his sleeves. He was still startled every time he saw it though, and a bit of fear and doubt creeped in. Names had power. The fact that the Thief’s symbol was the first letter of the name he chose for himself showed how deeply tied that name was to his magic. That darkness must clutch Parnesse’s soul in ways Babet, who lacked the majority of his, could never imagine.

He was still getting used to his fellow criminals though. There were some lower level thugs and thieves that followed Montparnasse’s orders, but only two others that appeared to be marked like him. Together, he, Montparnasse, Claquesous, and Gueulemer formed the Patron-Minette: a criminal organization who seemed to have their hands in everything. For instance, Babet wasn’t simply supposed to Heal them, he also was teaching low level Healing spells to criminals so they could heal each other and use the pain relieving spells to sell for a high. Montparnasse was a Thief in his own right, going out at night to go into wealthy homes and take what he liked, but the also organized the underworld and told them where to steal from. Claquesous gave cover to the others in the night, but he also sent out Montparnasse’s orders and trained other Darkness wielders how to do their jobs better. And then there was Gueulemer, who lacked any Magical ability himself, and instead used his strength and skill when it came to killing to do his job. He was Montparnasse’s hitman as well as his secret weapon, since nobody thought to count the Magicless man in their plans against Parnasse.

When he made the deal, he had thought he would be simply helping occasionally, and going out on jobs at times, but his days and nights were filled with things to do. Babet only slept occasionally, and usually from the insistence of someone else because he lacked the ability to know when he was truly tired as lacking a full soul caused you to always feel tired. Still, it was nice to be working constantly again, to have something of a schedule each day. It gave him a reason to get up, even on days when his body felt like it was dying while he was still fine, or when the memory of his beloved laid so heavily on his mind that the thought of moving was nearly unbearable.

The others made sure he got up, and yelled at him if he didn’t, in a tone that said angry but words that sounded more concerned. Gueulemer was often the one to do it, unless he had a job, so when it was Claquesous instead that morning, Babet was not surprised. He was, however, startled to discover that the reason he was awoken so early was because Gueulemer had gotten himself shot and was in desperate need of Healing.

Babet raced to the infirmary and immediately began to prepare. It was just him and a dying man, like it had been during surgeries back when he had his license. He cleaned his hands and pulled on his gloves and apron before closing his eyes and placing a hand over the wound in the other’s stomach. Babet took a deep breath and began to whisper the spell, his green Magic spiraling down from his hand into the wound. Back before he had taken up Necromancy, his magic had been new leaf green, but now it was the grayed color of mold.

It Healed the same nevertheless, and slowly the bullet extracted itself from his patient’s wound. He caught it as he slowly levitated into his hand and sat it aside, before placing his hand on the wound itself and began a different whispered spell. Slowly it began to close itself up and lessen the blood flow to the point that it stopped completely. When it was Healed enough for the time being, he slumped into the chair beside the bed to rest for a moment. Lacking soul often made Healing a tiring activity, especially when you’re bringing someone back from the brink, but there wasn’t much that could be done. After resting for a minute he stood back up and began to bandage it.

When the work was done, he collapsed into the chair again and sighed, relieved that he still had his touch. He remembered how he went through the healing school in two years when it usually took people four or more, how often he’d been told that he was a prodigy, destined to change the world with his skill. Babet couldn’t help but laugh at the idea now. If they saw his state as of late, how they would change their opinions. He was never going to be anything more than a Necromatic failed healer who was still desperate to at least make contact with his beloved.

That night had been a blur. He had a late shift and didn’t get back until the quiet hours of the evening, and returned to his home burning to the ground while they tried to put it out to no success. It shouldn’t have happened. There was no reason it should have happened. She was a Potionmaker, she knew how to handle fire. There was no way she would let it get so out of control. It didn’t make sense. It just didn’t make-

Babet jumped when he felt a hand gently pulling his hand away from his hair. He hadn’t even realized he’d begun to pull at his hair and rock, sobbing. Gueulemer, despite being just barely conscious was trying to comfort Babet, or maybe just make him to stop being hysterical so he could sleep. He was so shocked that he had mostly stopped, but Gueulemer still seemed concerned.

“I’m fine. I’m fine, sorry,” he said quietly, standing up and heading out, to avoid this embarrassment.

“Why are you crying?” Gueulemer asked, watching.

“It’s nothing,” Babet, muttered, grabbing the doorknob-

_“EMMA!” Babet shouted, pushing the door open to their burning house. He needed to see if she was in there, he needed to rescue her._

__

__

_The heat was so intense, and he couldn’t breath, but he couldn’t stop. Babet searched the home and struggled to get through the wreckage.The flames ate away his coat and his skin but Emma was more important. He finally made it to the bedroom and saw-_

__

__

_And saw her- her-_

“BABET!” a voice shouted, as something hit his back.

Babet managed to curl up on the ground with his back against the wall beside the door as he returned to the present. He covered his mouth as he tried to restrain his sobs, closing his eyes tightly so he couldn’t see how embarrassed Gueulemer was of him, and to hide the tears. It was rare he felt this much anymore. Losing the majority of your soul was surprisingly numbing, and frankly it was the only good thing to come out of the whole mess. Eventually he started calming down enough to be sensible, and started heading out again.

“Get back here!” Gueulemer shouted. Babet wasn’t surprised at how well he was doing, but part of him wished he wasn’t quite as good as he was so that he could escape.

Reluctantly, he returned and sat back down in the chair. He looked up at Gueulemer expectantly, waiting.

“What the hell, man? Who’s Emma?” Gueulemer asked, trying to be softer and kinder. It wasn’t something he was experienced with, but he knew there wasn’t anyone else in the house who would be better suited for this, even if they were all in the home. They weren’t exactly the comforting sort.

Babet was slightly confused, not remembering that he’d actually shouted out loud. “I’m sorry if I woke you up. I didn’t mean to. I-... haven’t felt this much in a long time…”

“Because of your… you know…”

“Yes, because of my Necromancy. Yes, I performed Necromancy to try to reach Emma,” Babet replied, trying not to be annoyed. It was frustrating that people thought it was such a delicate subject that they couldn’t bring it up to him without him going back to trying to summon spirits. 

Gueulemer nodded awkwardly. “Why are you feeling more again? Is it bad?”

Babet laughed and ran a hand through his hair. “I have no idea, but it’s not necessarily bad. Maybe my mind or my spirit decided this is a good place to start ‘healing’ what happened.”

He nodded, as he did not know much about emotions and assumed the good Healer would have a better understanding of such things. “I won’t tell anyone, if you wish for it to be kept hidden.”

“Thank you, Gueulemer. I would prefer it if they didn’t know,” Babet replied. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust them with his feelings, it was more that he didn’t want to seem weak. “Now rest. Healer’s orders.” His words were stern, but he had a hint of a smile on his lips. Gueulemer gave a little salute and snuggled in for a nice long nap.

Babet left the room and took a deep breath, somehow feeling like a weight had been lifted off his chest. He headed off to make breakfast. If he didn’t, no one would, and then no one would eat, because the house was full of children who didn’t think about possibly making their own meals.


End file.
